The Poems, Sacred, Passionate, and Humorous, of Nathaniel Parker Willis

Clark & Austin, 1845 - 331 sidor

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Sidan 32 - Tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could drink the cup, If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer home, My lost boy, Absalom...
Sidan 6 - Room for the leper !" And aside they stood, •Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood — all Who met him on his way — and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is with an iron nerve put down, Crying
Sidan 180 - I can give not what men call love ; But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the Heavens reject not : The desire of the moth for the star, Of the night for the morrow, The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow?
Sidan 88 - ON THE cross-beam under the Old South bell The nest of a pigeon is builded well. In summer and winter that bird is there, Out and in with the morning air: I love to see him track the street, With his wary eye and active feet; And I often watch him as he springs.
Sidan 10 - Unclean! unclean !" and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the Stranger came, and bending o'er The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name
Sidan 11 - As if his heart was moved, and, stooping down, He took a little water in his hand And laid it on his brow, and said,
Sidan 92 - The mountains in their places stood, -* The sea, the sky, — . and " all was good " ; And, when its first pure praises rang, The
Sidan 213 - BRIGHT be the skies that cover thee, Child of the sunny brow — Bright as the dream flung over thee By all that meets thee now. Thy heart is beating joyously, Thy voice is like a bird's, And sweetly breaks the melody Of thy imperfect words.
Sidan 30 - The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, As if he feared the slumberer might stir.
Sidan 239 - Strange, that the audible stillness of the noon, The waters tripping with their silver feet, The turning to the light of leaves in June, And the light whisper as their edges meet — Strange — that they fill not, with their tranquil tone, The spirit, walking in their midst alone. There's no contentment in a world like this, Save in forgetting the immortal dream...

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